


Don't Let Me Go

by barelyhipster18



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: F/M, Fluff, Hurt Harry Styles, Inspired by Music, One Shot, Rich Harry Styles, Short One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-12-25
Updated: 2014-12-25
Packaged: 2018-03-03 10:35:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,352
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2847866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/barelyhipster18/pseuds/barelyhipster18
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based off the song Don't Let Me Go by Harry Styles. Written from your point of view & Harry's point of view.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Don't Let Me Go

**Author's Note:**

> Lyrics to Don't Let Me Go are as follows:
> 
> Now you were standing there right in front of me  
> I hold on it's getting harder to breathe  
> All of a sudden these lights are blinding me  
> I never noticed how bright they would be
> 
> I saw in the corner there is a photograph  
> No doubt in my mind it's a picture of you  
> It lies there alone in its bed of broken glass  
> This bed was never made for two
> 
> I'll keep my eyes wide open  
> I'll keep my arms wide open
> 
> Don't let me  
> Don't let me  
> Don't let me go  
> 'Cause I'm tired of feeling alone
> 
> Don't let me  
> Don't let me go  
> 'Cause I'm tired of feeling alone
> 
> I promised one day that I'd bring you back a star  
> I caught one and it burned a hole in my hand oh  
> Seems like these days I watch you from afar  
> Just trying to make you understand  
> I'll keep my eyes wide open yeah
> 
> Don't let me  
> Don't let me  
> Don't let me go  
> 'Cause I'm tired of feeling alone  
> Don't let me  
> Don't let me go
> 
> Don't let me  
> Don't let me  
> Don't let me go  
> 'Cause I'm tired of feeling alone  
> (repeat 2x)

**Harry's Point Of View**

It was the first time I had been back at my apartment since we'd parted ways. In some sense, it was like stepping back into a portal, an empty shell of what used to be my home life. I had been putting off coming back to get my stuff for a while, but with a tour approaching, it was now or never.

Hesitantly, I stepped through the back door of the flat I once shared with her and could instantly smell her soft warm scent. It was light and fruity. The lights were off, and although it was nearly noon and the sun was shining in every window, it felt cold in there. A pair of her shoes was laying in the corner, like they had been quickly kicked off after a long day of work where they had been constricting her delicate feet for too long. I pushed past them and closed the door behind me, letting it sit a few inches open, as if I wanted to be able to run out as fast as I could if I needed to.

The kitchen was in neat order and the fruit that was once on the counter in a large wooden basin was gone, perhaps thrown away weeks ago. She must have been here. I thought as I noticed a small pile of envelopes on the counter where she always put my mail. I forced myself up the stairs towards our bedroom. The stairs creaked loudly and I remembered why I hated them. They never let for any kind of surprise or silent escape downstairs. The house was eerily silent though, and I felt an unease as I went upstairs, hesitant to what I was find.

I peeked into the guest bedroom and it looked like she had decided to sleep on the bed, as the sheets were a different color and it looked slightly disheveled. She never knew how to properly make the bed, she liked when I tried to make the bed with her still in it. I cringed and forced myself to walk down the hall towards the master bedroom.

A few pictures that were once hanging on the wall sat empty at the end of the hall, their pictures in shreds next to them. I paced over and slowly rummaged through the pieces. The picture of us at the Scarborough Fair was the first I pieced together, our faces gleaming with pride as we had just won a stuffed animal. In another picture, we were holding hands in front of the famous New York City Christmas tree. It was cold and our cheeks were stained red. She had just gotten done drinking a hot chocolate when I kissed her. She tasted like peppermint. In the last photo, I was kissing her on the cheek in front of the ocean. Her long brown hair whipped around her face and I could feel the salty wind off the ocean streaking down my neck. For a second I could swear there was sand in my toes and a soft rush of water in my ears. Catching myself on the wall, one of the empty photo frames clashed to the floor. I stood up abruptly and pardoned myself, walking to the bedroom we used to share.

It looked as if she had turned into a human tornado and ripped the room apart. My heart felt like it was being seared with a branding iron. Our unmade bed was just as we had left it, the pillows still harboring small indents where our heads had laid. I forced myself to walk toward the bed and collapsed onto the left side of the bed, barely seated on the edge. This was the side of the bed that I always slept on. I was used to this, and now I was used to nothing. I was just  _used_.

"This bed was never made for two." I murmured as I ran my fingers over the soft cotton, smoothing it out gently. Even the blankets smelled like hear and a hot tear seared my cheek. I saw a photograph in the corner, it's broken glass shattered on the dark wood floor. It looked as if it had been thrown into a wall. Immediately, I knew it was a picture of her. It was the picture I had taken while we were at Leeds Festival. She had a corndog in one hand, and a large coke in the other. She didn't know I was taking the photo when I had secretly snapped it. I couldn't resist though. She looked so comfortable and soft and inviting. She was beautiful without even trying, and the picture was a beautiful representation of all that she was. I had it printed in black and white and set it next to my bed so I always woke up next to her whether she was there or not. I sighed and picked it out of the glass, setting it on the window ledge. I avoided looking at it and suddenly it felt like the sun was too bright. I hadn't noticed how clear the day was. It was almost blinding. My eye refused to adjust.

I rubbed a hot tear from the corner of my eye and pinched the bridge of my nose. I stood there for a while until I heard the familiar creek from the stairs. I froze in place. Waiting. Listening. A primal part of me knew she was here. I couldn't breathe. 

 

**Your Point Of View**

  
As soon as I approached the street, I knew Harry was there. He was the only one on the block who could afford an Audi A8 and park it on the street because he didn't care for pretentious parking garages. He had insisted on living in the small private neighborhood known to be quiet yet still inviting. When we had looked for apartments in the spring, we knew it was a big commitment, but we had been together for nearly two years and it seemed like the right timing.

Knowing I couldn't avoid Harry forever, I let myself pull up to the drive and park on the street. There wasn't any use in trying to stay away from him. He was a celebrity who had his face plastered on buses and billboards. It wasn't something I wanted to do either. Every time I saw even a glimpse of him, my heart sent pangs into my stomach, a rude aching that persisted long after. There was a knot in my stomach as I approached the half unlatched door. It was very Harry to only close the door half way. He always wanted the sense of security and it seemed backward, but leaving an easy out was always his first instinct. He left the door open so he could run away if he needed to. He liked to run away from his problems and I knew first hand how it felt. I always knew he would leave the door half open on our relationship, I just hoped it wouldn't happen.

I pushed through the door and closed it tightly behind me. There was no point in trying to stop him from running away again, he would do as he pleased. I felt a pang of regret as I searched haphazardly through the rooms on the first floor. He rarely went to his office but I checked anyway, knowing I would find him soon enough. Part of me wanted to put it off as long as I could. As I climbed up the stairs, letting them creek liberally under me, I bit my lip knowing he had seen the pictures that once hung on our walls. Most of the pictures Harry had taken. He loved photography and his closet was filled with old cameras and negatives in shoe boxes. I had made a point to hang most of his pictures because he would never be as proud of them as he should have been, he was too modest.

I walked past the guest bedroom I had slept in the one night before I decided I couldn't stay in an empty house that was once a home by myself plagued by the haunting memories and reminders of Harry's existence. Almost immediately, I had packed up my essentials and gone to my parent's place. They didn't ask questions and I didn't give answers.

In all honestly, I had only ripped up the photos of us, out of sheer rage and sadness but I regretted it as soon as I saw them on the floor. Harry had flattened out their wrinkles and put them back together, giving each a rusty mosaic look. It seemed like something he would do; try to piece together something he had broken. One of the first times we met, he had broken my favorite mug. Knowing I loved it, he had it recreated almost to a T and had given it to me along with the original that had been put back together with glue and cement. In the end, I wasn't even upset the mug had broken. The new mug meant more to me than the old.

I paused at the end of the hall and took a deep breath as I stepped into the bedroom. Harry's silhouette stood in front of the large window that overlooked the back courtyard. He had one hand in his pocket and one hand on the picture I had thrown at the wall. He held it gently between his two fingers like it could crack along with the glass it had previously been in. He slowly turned around, and it was then that I realized the red rimmed eyes and tear stained cheeks. I had only seen him cry two times in the entire time I had known him. 

I found myself holding my breath. "Harry." I whispered softly. I cautiously walked over to him, taking the picture from his hands, placing it on the bed, and wiped a tear from the base of his cheekbone. His jawline was sharp, tense under the strong muscles that perfectly aligned his face. His eyes were darker, sunken in like he hadn't slept in a while. I hadn't slept in a while. His soft brown hair hung over his ears, coming to curls at the end, soft baby ringlets I so badly wanted to stick my fingers through. But it wasn't my place anymore, I didn't have permission to do that.

He didn't say anything, only stood there dazed, like I was an illusion. I so desperately wanted him to say something but not knowing what to do, I wrapped my arms around his thick torso and placed my cheek on his chest. It felt natural and soft, and warm, and like where I wanted and needed to be. It was out of instinct and I almost flinched when I realized what I had done.

 

**Harry's Point Of View**

"Don't let me go." I finally whispered into her hair. It smelled like coconut and was slick on my damp cheek. "I'm tired of feeling alone." It came out a hush whisper but it came out, none the less. I pulled her into me and let out a small sob. I could feel her shaking against me, presumably crying also. We stood in silence for a while until she pulled back, sniffling and rubbing her eyes. They were glossy and dark mascara stained her lower eyelids. I rubbed a thumb over them, removing the makeup like I had so many times before. She smiled sadly, remembering just as I was.

I sounded pathetic and weak and the words came gushing out of my mouth before I could stop them. I had fucked up and I knew it, but I wasn't going to hold my pride. I needed her to know she was right and I was wrong and I was going to make it up to her. I fingered the small box in my coat pocket and sniffled a cough back. I pulled away from her and pulled the small box out. I had intended on giving her the star necklace after I got back from the promotional tour, but everything had blown up before I got the chance. I had been letting it burn a hole in my pocket since I had bought it, letting it remind me of her day in and day out. I slowly placed it in her hands, looking her directly in the eyes.

"I know I told you one day I'd bring you back a star." I said to her, referencing one of the times we had gone star gazing in my family's back yard back in Holmes Chapel. "But if I did that, I'm sure that'd burn a hole in my hand, much like this has been burning a hole in my pocket for the last few weeks." She held it in the palm of her hands, like it was a precious stone not to be dropped. I took a deep breath and continued.

"I just want you to understand." I opened the box slowly and pulled the necklace out, letting the silver reflect the light from it illuminate on the walls. She had her eyes squeezed shut, either out of instinct because it was a surprise or out of fear. I lightly placed a finger under her chin, raising her head up so she could look me in the eye. "Open your eyes, love." I let a light chuckle out and I fastened the necklace around her delicate neck. It fell just below her collar bones and seemed to glow on her unfaultered skin. She opened her eyes slowly and deliberately, small specks of water lined her lashes and added to the glossy effect her eyes had.

I looked down on her, taking in her full beauty, letting it outshine even the sun that burned through the windows and heated the room ever so slightly. She took my face in her small hands and placed a kiss on my lips, all while whispering, "I will never let you go."


End file.
